


beside you

by SomewhereNotHere



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Happy Birthday Ignis, M/M, Spoilers, Spoilers for chapter 9 and 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9619145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereNotHere/pseuds/SomewhereNotHere
Summary: “Hey, Prompto,” Noctis addresses him once Gladio retires for the night, along with Ignis who only seemed lost without anything to do, “It’s gonna be Specs’ birthday soon. Tomorrow.”





	

Once upon a time Prompto wouldn’t have minded tinned food. It was simple and easy to prepare, saved the time and hassle of cooking something that never turned out quite right when he was home alone, and it felt like a treat swapping between having it and takeout. A year or two ago the voice inside his head would have cheered with a “Tinned food? Aw yeah, baby!” if it were also his favourite kind of brand, but now?

Well, all it brought was a miserable and pained feeling in his chest, along with noodles too. Gladio probably felt the same, judging by the way his expression was all but an empty one when he laid his eyes on his most beloved noodle snack.

Cup Noodles be damned, all Prompto wanted to do was throw them so far away out of his sight until he could see nothing at all.

_‘See nothing at all… Yeah, real nice, Prompto…’_

Sight jokes and remarks, even if only in his head, made his heart feel heavier than it already did given the circumstances they were under. Scratch that; given the circumstances of Ignis’ condition.

Even though Gladio and Noctis had begun patching things up after Ignis broke his silence, the atmosphere was still tense and suffocating, not to mention downright heartbreaking every time they camped at a safe haven and Ignis would automatically walk to a spot where he would have had the cooking workspace set up before.

He would stand there for a few seconds – which felt like hours for the three watching – before returning slowly and dejectedly to where he’d been sat on the camping chair, not saying a word. No one else could bring themselves to speak up about it, or even dared to.

“One cup of noodles coming right up,” Prompto’s voice screams fake enthusiasm as he takes it upon himself for the second night running to hand out the meal they’re all too familiar with, “Eat it while it’s still hot, and it should warm you all the way through to your toes.”

A deafening silence follows in response to his words, interrupted only by a grunt from both Gladio and Noct, and a polite “thank you” from Ignis himself. His gloved hands linger slightly on Prompto’s as he gingerly takes the cup from him. Under normal circumstances the action might have surprised Prompto to the point of reddened cheeks, but the reality is that Ignis needs to be careful with his hands, not just his feet. Tripping was one thing that was unavoidable on certain terrain, but dropping something that would only serve to scald his skin should be easy to avoid if they were attentive enough.

“No problem, Iggy.”

Ignis’ small smile in reply to his words is enough to relax him, if only for a moment. It makes him hope that, maybe soon, things really will be alright again. Perhaps Ignis’ sight would never return, but he would grow stronger, they all would, and they’d get through this as a team. The world may have needed hope, but they needed it too.

“Hey, Prompto,” Noctis addresses him once Gladio retires for the night, along with Ignis who only seemed lost without anything to do, “It’s gonna be Specs’ birthday soon. Tomorrow.”

He freezes, mouth almost on the floor in shock at how Noct is even able to mention the fact so casually as if their days had been as normal as they were a few weeks ago. A birthday celebrated – or not, as the case would probably be – in darkness was no birthday at all, only hell if a person cared about it so much. Prompto couldn’t see Ignis being this, but it still hurt regardless.

“We can’t just eat Cup Noodles or tinned food,” Prompto balls his hands into fists, rising from his chair, “Not on that day, there’s no way, we just… can’t.”

Noctis leans forward and joins Prompto on his feet, kicking a lone stone onto the fireplace with a pained look on his face, “Yeah…”

Nothing else is said about it, it doesn’t need to be when the conversation would hit a dead-end fast, so instead Noctis asks a question Prompto dreads to hear the rest of as soon as he’s begun speaking.

“Back in Altissia. Did you finally… say anything. To Ignis?”

“No,” Prompto’s answer is abrupt, lacking emotion, “There was never time. Before we knew it, normal conversation turned into us shouting towards one another as we were surrounded by Niffs.”

During the moments before, Prompto believed Ignis had already figured it out; that he was hiding something and needed to say it before he missed the chance. Fat lot of good that did him, as now he was too scared to bring it up at all.

“Right.”

Noctis doesn’t say anything further, but the pat on Prompto’s shoulder and slight squeeze is enough to show his best friend is sympathetic. He mutters a “thanks” in response, and tells him he won’t be long behind when Noct says he’s going to finally sleep for the night.

Prompto’s head hurts enough without thinking of selfish wants and wishes, so why did he have to bring it up now? Why did he have to bring up the subject of Ignis’ birthday, all when they could do nothing about it?

_‘No… that’s not true.’_

A passing thought on Prompto’s mind has him remembering a conversation about chocobos he and Noct had back when they visited Wiz. Something about a recipe that had supposedly come to Noct “in a dream”, though clearly that could not have been the case. Noctis wasn’t imaginative when it came to food, especially not on any level even close to Ignis, so when he produced a piece of paper that read “How to make: Golden Chocobo Tart” Prompto knew he must have asked Wiz about a secret recipe on the sly.

It was probably never acquired with the intent of Prompto doing anything with it – Ignis had been the designated cook, after all – but if he could follow the steps and make it with the ingredients they had left, then maybe…

Maybe he could do this one thing for Ignis to say thank you for everything he had done for them, even if it was a small gesture in the grand scheme of things. Prompto’s cooking would never be able to compare to his, but had Ignis ever had anyone cook for him before? He just couldn’t picture it even if he tried.

The thought was quite depressing, all the while it fueled Prompto to be done with his newfound mission for one by the next day. If he went to bed at a ridiculous hour, he’d just use a potion to help revitilise himself, but no potion could help him with baking.

“Fine gighee ham, birdbeast egg, and sheep milk. Easy…”

Thankfully they had the right ingredients left, and using them would make it easier to carry the camping equipment if the weight was reduced. It was a win-win situation.

It takes Prompto over an hour to make the pastry from scratch. It’s something that should only take around fourty minutes – according to the recipe guide – though he is not lucky enough to be in a real kitchen to gain the time back.

The noises that echo out in the woods are distracting enough to stop him from what he’s doing every now and then, until he remembers they are untouchable at safe havens. At least, for now.

“Blindbake and weigh it down…”

All he needs to do is wait for the pastry to cook and then he can work on the filling. Prompto smiles to himself; so far, so good.

“Huh. Now I get why Iggy enjoyed it so much…”

There was something oddly fulfilling about baking food from scratch for yourself, more-so for someone else. Whilst it was taking particularly longer than it should have, Prompto was having fun. It made him feel… guilty.

_‘It should be Ignis in my place, not me.’_

Ignis should have been the one able to stand where he is now, chopping away at leiden peppers and slicing dualhorn steak to make delicious spicy long-bone ribs like the last time he had before losing his sight, or any other type of meal at all. Perhaps that was a somewhat biased and selfish thought, given the fact that it was one of Prompto’s favourite foods.

Left alone with his thoughts, Prompto realises that time whips on faster than expected. He removes the pan from the heat and places it on the countertop, letting it chill. The recipe is more lenient with its instructions regarding the filling, allowing for a more personal touch. As long as he follows the rest of the steps exactly, it would still be a Golden Chocobo Tart.

They don’t have much in terms of sweet ingredients, if any at all, so settling on a lemon and sugar flavoured filling is the best he can do. Simple and sweet enough for it to still taste like a dessert, and hopefully good enough for Ignis to actually like it.

Prompto taste tests as he goes along, just like he had watched Ignis do so many times before, and is thankful that he has actually remembered the little things he picked up on. He regrets not asking Ignis to teach him, if only to have been able to help him a little while on their travels, but it’s too late for that and not worth dwelling on.

Once happy with the filling, Prompto places the pan back into the heat. The only thing left to do is wait for it to bake and then leave it to cool, and after that he can finally retire for the night.

Unlike his initial plan, he won’t use a potion in the morning to help wake him up if he struggles from the sleep deprivation; it wouldn’t be fair to waste their much needed supplies on something so trivial, not when it could mean the difference between life and death in battle. He would suck it up, he’d have to.

“I really hope this will be good enough…”

Prompto never thought to bake another just in case the first try failed, not that they had the ingredients left for him to do so anyway. Tomorrow was riding on this one and only attempt, and if that didn’t make his palms sweat with anxiety he’d be lying to himself.

King’s Knight wasn’t as fun as it had been in a while, nor a good enough distraction to pass the time, so Prompto settles himself into one of the camping chairs and stares up at the sky. With the way the world was being thrown into chaos, he’s surprised to see even one star still shining brightly in the night.

He tries to make out various shapes to keep himself occupied while he waits; wondering if a star there looks like one of the Six, or a star here possibly resembling a moogle. It takes his mind off things for a while, until he remembers seeing all the couples on the beach back at Galdin Quay stargazing.

A romantic event, and one he had secretly wished he could experience with Ignis at the time. The laugh that escapes him is anything but genuine.

“Wow,” he sighs hard, running his hands through his hair and ruffling up the ends, “What I wouldn’t kill for a shower about now.”

It wasn’t so much the dirt stuck between his roots that bothered him, so much as wanting to wash away the unnecessary and negative feelings swirling around his mind and in his chest. They could all use one, considering the smell that followed them around was completely foul, but Ignis needed it the most.

It hurt to watch him trip and dirty himself the worst out of all of them, and all Prompto could do was help him to his feet and try to keep a closer eye out in a vain attempt to catch him before he lost his balance. It never worked out that way, yet Ignis always gave him his thanks for sticking so close by his side.

Keeping both eyes on him during battle was proving to be a difficult task, but Prompto would continue to do the very best he damn well could. There was no way he was going to let Ignis be drastically hurt, not again.

“Should be ready,” he lets out a long sigh, once again standing from his camping chair. A good thing he moved now, the urge to sleep was begining to take hold of him, “The moment of truth…”

The pan is hot and he almost burns his fingers on it, but using the material of his casual clothes he had brought along as makeshift oven gloves is enough to stop him from dropping it on the floor, and instead he places it carefully on the countertop.

It smells… good. Looks good, too. As far as taste goes, that would have to wait and depended on whether Ignis liked it or not. For the time being, Prompto could say he was happy with it, no, more than happy; it looked and smelt exactly like it should have, and there were no burns to the pastry at all. He was elated.

Prompto wouldn’t make a fuss, he wouldn’t mention the meaning of tomorrow’s date, not until he could speak to Ignis alone. He didn’t want to make him feel awkward, or run the risk of destroying the way he was dealing with his predicament so calmly. On the inside he wondered if it was the same, or drastically different. Thinking about the latter made Prompto suck in a breath.

No more thinking negatively, he just needs to rest. Slipping quietly into the tent without disturbing everyone has become second nature to Prompto now; unbeknown to the rest of the group, he had made himself scarce every now and then during the night. Sometimes he just needed to be alone to process everything they had been through. Feeling the cold wind on his face outside was relaxing while he closed his eyes and rested his head back.

A few moments to himself helped whenever he felt his head was going to explode, but he didn’t need to excuse himself tonight. The stress, and fun, of baking had tired him out completely.

_‘Feel like I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight…’_

 

* * *

 

“Noct!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!”

Prompto watches Gladio and Noctis begin their training from the safety of the tent, not wanting to get in the way when he notices how pumped Gladio is (he hopes it’s that, and not that he’s actually riled up).

Ignis had woken up during the early hours of the morning in a cold sweat, so right now Prompto is sat beside him with his legs crossed, making sure he’s not sick. He looks flushed in the face and breathless, Prompto notices, and knows it’s cause for him to rummage through a bag for something to help take care of it.

“There is no need to waste our curatives on me,” Ignis reaches a hand out to find and hold onto Prompto’s arm, “We are low on supplies and should save them for the road ahead of us.”

“We’re already on a long road, Iggy,” Prompto sighs, gently shaking himself free of Ignis’ hold and slipping a potion into the hand that was on his arm a second ago, “This should help you regain your strength. One won’t hurt, and it’d suck if you got ill thanks to nothing right now. Just rest today, Ignis.”

Ignis is silent for a moment and reluctantly takes the potion. The liquid oozes into his mouth and runs down his throat, warming him right to his core as its healing properties begin to work straight away. It helps, just a little, but doesn’t stop him feeling tired from his disturbed sleep.

He knows resting like Prompto said will help with that, and he laughs.

“You’re beginning to sound like me,” he muses, rubbing the last of the sweat from his brow with the back of his gloved hand, “I must give you my thanks. You have all been patient, especially yourself. You are truly a kind soul, Prompto. It is no wonder you and Noct came to be such good friends.”

“Nah, just doing what I can. It’s no biggie, really.”

“Well… it is to me.”

Prompto clears his throat, ducking his head down automatically, even if Ignis can’t really see the reddened state of his cheeks. He closes the bag with their supplies in back up, choosing to change the subject.

He asks Ignis how he’s doing, asks about his past and what they don’t already know. Listening to Ignis talk about himself, in the most animated manner he’s seen in a while, makes Prompto smile from ear to ear.

“In regards to your first question; I am getting by the best I can. It is not easy, yet it would be more of a task without the help.”

Prompto doesn’t wait to hear if it’s because of all of them or himself specifically, for fear of becoming too silent that it raises suspicion, so he continues the conversation talking about himself.

Stories of his and Noct’s school days prove to be a good subject as Ignis smiles at the many home economics tales Prompto shares with him.

Ketchup wasn’t the only thing Prompto had sent flying over people; back during classes, he had been particularly worse when it came to handling bottles of liquids and other ingredients. Icing in particular was one such food item that Prompto, nor Noctis, had wanted to see much of in their last school year. It was a rather annoying substance to remove from their own hair.

“If only I had been there to teach you.”

“Man if you _had_ been, there would have been no way for me to end up at the bottom of the class every time, or Noct for that matter. A real shame.”

“Indeed.”

Prompto smiles and leans forward, stopping when it suddenly dawns on him as to why he had been moving in the first place. His heart leaps into his throat and it takes all of his strength not to shake with anxiety.

Breathe in, breathe out. He was hungry and not thinking straight because of it, that’s all.

“It’s dark out. Well, guess it would be anyway, but, uh… you ready for food, Ignis?”

Ignis nods and reaches his hand out towards Prompto like he had done before, this time looking for support to help him stand to his feet. Prompto hastily offers his arm and helps Ignis lift himself up, his own hand lingering atop the hand resting on his arm until he’s happy that Ignis won’t lose his footing.

“Come on, you two, I’m starving.” Gladio greets them as soon as they’re out of the tent.

The fire is alight, the chairs adjusted so that Gladio is facing towards them all instead of away, and part of Prompto relaxes because of it. It seems that their training must have patched up everything between the two that hadn’t been by Ignis’ words alone.

“Oh yeah? And whose fault is that?”

Prompto ignores them while he helps Ignis to his seat. Once Ignis is seated, he proceeds to sort the Cup Noodles for them all once again. If they end up staying another night after this, he’ll whip out the normal tinned food as soon as posssible. There was only so much of one, night after night, they could take.

“Hey, Prompto.” Noctis nudges him as he finishes his food first, “How’d it go?”

“Uh, good!” Prompto smiles, clearing his throat, “Yeah, good I think. Thanks for the recipe, Noct, I really owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He’s thankful to Noctis, he truly is. He listened to Prompto when they were atop the motel roof before setting sail to Altissia from Cape Caem, and boy had that taken a huge weight off his shoulders at the time. Now? Here he was, not even teasing him about what he had slaved over the night before, for someone who meant something a little more to him than just a friend.

Ignis was… different. He’d always been different from the beginning. What started as innocent curiosity turned into respect and admiration, which only served to change when…

Well, he’s not exactly sure when the feeling turned into something heavy that made Prompto’s heart pound so loud he could hear it in his hears whenever Ignis complimented him, but it grew and grew until one day it was so painfully obvious that Prompto himself had to step back and mutter “Wow, I… like him, huh…” almost in disbelief at how strongly he felt.

It was embarrassing.

“Prompto?” it’s Ignis’ voice that snaps him out of his daydreaming, and when he looks up there’s no sign of Gladio or Noct around the fireplace.

“Where did…?”

“Worn out, or so I’ve been told,” Ignis answers his unfinished question, “I thought you had fallen asleep. Please accept my apologies if that was the case and I disturbed you.”

There he was, doing it again, _apologising,_ and for doing nothing at all. It had started as soon as they had been left alone on the train together whilst Gladio had stormed off and Noctis had done the same, albeit in the opposite direction. Ignis never seemed to do it when they were all in close proximity to each other, yet when it came to relying on Prompto’s support, the apologies would fall naturally from his lips. It gave the impression that he felt guilty about it, which Prompto could not understand if that really was the case.

“No, it’s okay, and besides; I need to give you something.”

He’s glad Ignis stopped him from falling asleep, and now was a good time as any to finally let him taste his cooking. It was a daunting thing, excusing himself from his seat to collect the Golden Chocobo Tart from its hiding place. Prompto had placed it inside a small container, wrapping it around his casual clothes for protection.

When it’s finally out of the box and on a plate, Prompto stares at it one last time, scrutinising his handiwork. It was fine… it had to be.

“So, uh,” he finally clears his throat, walking over to Ignis and crouching down on the floor beside him, “This is for you.”

Prompto hands him the plate and a fork to use, smiling nervously when Ignis tilts his head in slight confusion. Of course he wouldn’t be expecting anymore food – proper food, at that – and he hesitates. He prods and pokes around the plate with his fork, stopping and breaking off a piece when it comes in contact with the tart. Slowly, he lifts the fork to his mouth, biting the piece of the dessert off and letting it fall into his mouth.

Ignis’ eyes widen, as unresponsive as they are, and Prompto sucks in an audible breath at the sight. It’s the first time he’s opened his eyes since the ordeal happened. Scarred or not, Prompto still thinks they’re absolutely beautiful.

“A Golden Chocobo Tart. It took a while to make since it’s completely outside of my field, and,” Prompto stops himself. He didn’t need to make excuses, and judging by Ignis’ sudden frown he must have thought the same, “Anyway! I, uh… hope you like it.”

“It tastes… heavenly. Prompto, it is absolutely divine. It’s rather remarkable you have been able to make this with what little ingredients we had left. Unless, that is, you had been scavenging for more all this time?”

“Nah, there was no time, not when I’ve been glued to you the way I have been.”

“I… apologise for making it hard on you.”

_‘No, that’s not what I meant.’_

That’s not what he meant at all, and damn it, if Prompto wasn’t now holding back tears because of such a small and stupid misunderstanding. He really should have thought more before speaking, it would probably cause him his life one day… and he’d probably deserve it too.

Shaking such thoughts from his head, he focuses on the person in front of him and how to tell him he’s completely and utterly wrong.

“It’s not hard, it’s just been… an experience. I’m glad you can count on me, as bad as that sounds. Wow, that… Yeah, that sounds really bad saying it outloud. I mean, you’re the one who…”

Ignis waves a hand and shakes his head, before continuing to eat, a small smile on his lips.

“I understand. Continue,”

“And, well… I wanted to say thanks, for everything you’ve done for me- for us. I wanted to do something for you, and to say happy birthday, Iggy.”

Having finished eating and already placed the plate on the floor beside him, Ignis sits all the way back in his chair. He’s quiet, far too quiet Prompto realises, and it’s unsettling to say the least.

“For Astrals sake, this is…” Ignis’ voice is no louder than a whisper, sounding strained as Prompto listens hard to make out what he’s saying.

The next thing Prompto sees has him moving before his brain has even caught up with him. He’s there, leaning up and over Ignis, carefully removing the tinted glasses off his face.

He’s absolutely stunning, and Prompto won’t let the tears running down his cheeks stain his face.

“It’s about time you were looked after too,” Prompto whispers, gently placing a kiss on his closed eyes, one then the other, and repeating this as he wipes the tears away with his thumb, “And I wanna do that for you.”

Ignis’ breath hitches with his quiet, almost silent, sobs, “I cannot fathom why I, of all people, deserve such kindness from you. Surely your efforts would be better concentrated on someone else, rather than be wasted on myself.”

_“Don’t even say that.”_

The sternness in Prompto’s voice is shocking, to say the least, when Ignis has never before heard him speak in such a manner.

“Don’t even say that,” he repeats the same words, softer, and pulls on Ignis’ shirt to bring him closer so he can rest his forehead against his, “I _care_ about you, we all do, and dare I say I do the _most._ You really… don’t know how important you are.”

_‘To me…’_ the words are left unsaid, though Prompto’s sure he doesn’t need to even speak them for Ignis to understand what he truly means. He’s smarter than that.

“I will not expect you to stay by my side. I could never ask that of you.”

Prompto flinches slightly at the gloved hands that feel their way up his arms to find his face, cupping his cheeks. It’s unexpected, but longingly welcomed all the same. If only he had felt this sensation sooner, during more carefree days.

“You don’t have to ask,” Prompto’s voice is low and quiet with his lips now dangerously close to Ignis’ own, “I want to be with you.”

Prompto isn’t sure who closes the gap; Ignis, or himself, or if they meet each other half way. All he knows is that kissing Ignis is like feeling the sun’s warmth on his skin. His lips are soft and they feel absolutely perfect against his own. He can even taste the lingering flavours of lemon and sugar from the dessert Ignis finished eating no more than ten minutes ago.

It’s sweet, and by this small taste alone Prompto is confident that the rest must have tasted just as good as Ignis had said… or perhaps that was the kiss clouding his judgment.

It’s innocent and closed, and more than he could ever ask for. The next sensation against his lips makes Prompto pull back and gasp with wide eyes, unsure whether it was his own mind playing tricks on him.

“Did you…?”

“Forgive me,” Ignis chuckles lightheartedly and by the Six does it sound like music to Prompto’s ears, “your lips are just as sweet as the dessert you made.”

“Okay, okay, time out! Time out!” Prompto all but pleads, the heat rising to his cheeks so fast he fears he’ll end up passing out if Ignis says anything more, but all he does is laugh again, _really_ laugh, and Prompto can’t help but follow suit as he moves back to his own chair to give his legs a rest.

Ignis reaches out to him for the third time that night, his palm up and open. Prompto obliges and holds onto his hand, giving him a gentle squeeze. It’s comforting for the both of them.

“I must thank you, Prompto. You have made today quite special.”

“Don't mention it,” he smiles, and it’s the first time he’s felt positive about himself, about _them,_ and about what they’ve all set out to do, “Hey, Ignis?”

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday.”

 


End file.
